Watching Them Die
by Maraudercat
Summary: Every year the mentors watch as the children placed in their care are killed in the Arena. See the 56th Annual Hunger Games through their eyes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Suzanne Collins and others who have purchased rights to THG

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**Felix King, District One**

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Hard to believe only a year ago I was one of those boys, quivering with anticipation, the rope of the reaping pens brushing my leg as my shoulders jostled with my neighbours. Ready to race for a chance at glory, to enter a fight to the death, ending in that wondrous moment of victory. The poor stupid fools.

How can they be so eager after they watched me suffer? Do they not think that the three days of misery I spent, spewing waste from every orifice of my body after I was bitten by a mutt could happen to them? Did they not see the mangled mess my foot became, the two toes that had to be permanently removed when they became infected? Did they not watch as my allies turned on me, pinned me to a tree with a sword through my belly, and forgot about me while they duelled one another to the death?

The moment the hands are raised, they all rush towards our stage, just like usual. The smart ones hang back a step, let themselves be barely beaten so that they can brag of how close they were to competing while they go on with their normal lives.

The pair that make the stage look quite typical at first glance. The girl is small, though leanly muscled and made good use of her elbows during her charge to volunteer. The boy, my first tribute, wears the wide, cocky grin I know all too well from our years of training together. The thrill, the rush of victory, even this minor one, that every child in our district is encouraged to pursue flushes Brocade's face pink as he laughs and waves.

I exchange a glance with Glory, the man who got me through my training, my Games, and my recovery as we stand to shake hands with our newest tributes. He rolls his eyes and gives the slightest shrug of his shoulders, signifying his silent agreement to my unspoken comment.

Odds are we're not going to have another victor this year, but that won't stop me doing my damned best to try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Felina Powell, District Two**

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Brutus grunts and throws back another whiskey as the reaping replay begins. Beside him Reubis leans forward eagerly, licking his lips as his eyes follow the undignified rush that is District One's volunteering protocol. I let their commentary wash past me as they watch the first pair take the stage, their banter easy after the months of one-on-one training.

To my right, Anevay settles back in her chair, her lips silently repeating the names of her soon-to-be allies and competitors. She's not the best tribute I've ever seen, but she was head and shoulders above the others in contention for this year's Games, and proved it in our trials. Most of our recent one-on-one training has been finding ways to compensate for her smaller size against larger opponents.

Most of Brutus' has been convincing Reubis that someday he might not be able to bull his way through a fight on sheer strength alone. Since that's pretty much how Brutus won his games, he's not particularly good at convincing his trainees, and as a result three of our last five boys have died because they took on an opponent too skilled for them to handle. My district partner was no exception.

The pair from Four, both volunteers again this year, look above average. Anevay adds their names to her list without pause, though I wince when I see Ava Lopez standing as one of their mentors. As spoiled narcissistic harpys go, she just about tops the list. At least the boy's mentor Morstan is easy to work with and easier on the eyes.

The rest of the reapings flash by, and I try to pin a few names and faces of interest in the midst of Vay's muttering and the boys' bawdy joking. Brayton Smett from Six has the build of a fighter, though probably no training. Parker Gerchell from Eight, no tears, no terror, even offers a gentlemanly arm to his district partner. Basma Jarrer from Nine, something about her stance that suggests she hasn't given up hope.

I flick the television off as the mining district and their scrawny offerings fade from the screen, and suggest pointedly that an early night won't hurt anyone. Especially if I have to be up and about meeting with my usual sponsors during the parade prep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wiress Ling, District Three**

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Arissa shivers as I help her down from the chariot, her shoulders bare but for a thin silk string. I throw my own jacket around the poor girl's shoulders as Beetee assists Sato to the ground. As always we weave our way quickly out from between the Career groups, hopefully minimizing the intimidation chances at least during this early stage. Not that it is likely to matter in the long run; I've been doing this long enough now to know when not to get up hope, at least for our female tribute.

Sato avoids my glance as we step into the elevator. He was one of a group of boys I caught tormenting my mentally handicapped brother one day outside of their school. Now he may rely on my help to survive. Funny how the world works sometimes. At least I know he's got the right sort of attitude to survive, and if he was a few years older he might actually have a decent chance.

We sit around the table, drinking coffee with our stylists and our escort Gloria, while the parade replays on the smaller television. Spotted furs, white stone statues, the costumes begin blur together with years gone by. There's only so much they can do with each district theme before they run out of ideas.

This year seemed to be a phase of less is more, and I can't see a single tribute wearing anything that covers shoulders, or drops below knee height. The pretty girl from Eight has even less on than Arissa did, and the tall, wiry boy from Eleven is all but naked with his loincloth of leaves. The crowd cheers louder with every flash of skin, and the stylists beside me discuss where they might be able to remove more fabric for some of their future designs.

I just stare at my coffee and watch it swirl and ripple. If one of our tributes makes it out alive, showing a bit of skin is going to be the least of their worries.


	4. Chapter 4

**Morstan Wake, District Four**

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He's either going to be the most loved or the most hated tribute I've ever mentored. A good enough looking boy to please the ladies, and certain in his own mind that he's the cleverest and most charming person in the room. Mostly our tributes, even the ones who spend years training to volunteer, have at least a little circumspection. They let the tributes from One and often Two do the bragging and just get on with the surviving.

The silent camera feed of the gymnasium shows Mateo lounging around at the spear-fighting station, chatting to the pretty girl from One. Something makes them both turn suddenly towards the knife-fighting stand, where the small boy from Three is slumped on the floor next to the instructor. They both laugh and jeer, and as I watch Mateo swagger over to intimidate the poor boy all the more I wonder how our District has changed so much.

I was the first volunteer from Four. I did so because I thought I wanted to die, but couldn't bring myself to suicide. Instead I discovered I still had a will to live, and inadvertently started a trend that saw our District join the ranks of the trained volunteers. Careers, they call us in some of the outer districts. As though it's all we aspire to in our lives. Might even be true in District One, where status and wealth are all important, and in Two where the warrior culture has grown around their training school.

Most of our districts' volunteers are people in bad situations. Maybe their family lost their boat, or fishing licence. Some are mentally or emotionally damaged. Orphans, lost a loved one, bad break-up even. Even then, they often don't volunteer unless a young child is reaped, and usually they have a bit of human decency.

I turn away disgusted as I watch Mateo shove the boy from Three down again as soon as the trainer's back is turned. I will never hope for the death of one of my tributes, or generally for any of the children forced to fight in this terrible spectacle, but I do hope that if Mateo comes out of the other side, his trials will have taught him the value of humility and respect.


	5. Chapter 5

**Diya Patel, District Five**

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Nine, Eight, Ten, Nine.

Sometimes I wonder if the numbers really mean much at all. In my year I had the second-lowest training score because I froze during the private sessions. It meant I wasn't targeted at the Cornucopia and had an easy get-away. No-one worried about me, and it gave me the time I needed to put everything into place.

Seven. District Three has a fighter this year. Four, Ten, Ten. Coanda beside me flinches back from the smirking face on screen, the boy from Four who yesterday told her in explicit detail how he would like to kill her. If it had been me the threats would have made me angry and cold. Would have made it easier. Coanda is a smart girl, and fairly strong but sometimes winning the Games is more about your inner self.

Three. Oh well, Dinkarr was never going to get far, no matter how much Warrick swears at him. Six. I can't be too disappointed with that. Statistically, she's the best tribute I've had in five years.

Eight, Two. He's a big boy from Six, but his eyes are too scared. Unless he snaps and goes feral, he's not really a chance.

Three, Five. The girl might make it. Probably counting on luck more than skill.

Nine. Six. A District Eight alliance could make things interesting. Coanda did spend a few hours with the pair from Eight, maybe we could try to join them.

Four, Four, Five, Three. Nothing to work with there.

Five, Eight. Maybe some useful skills, but I don't see the fight in either of them.

Six, Three. The boy looks quiet, clever. A bit of muscle and he might have been a contender.

Warrick turns to me as soon as we've packed the children back to their rooms, waiting for my analysis. Five years of mentoring together, he's learned to trust my observations. Finally.

"Ten dead in the bloodbath," I tell him. "The Careers will band, at least five days. The pair from Eight and the boy from Three will keep them busy for a while. Might even give them a bit of a fight. Boy from Twelve if he's lucky. Six is a wild-card. Coanda may be lucky too, but you'll be free to hit the clubs by sun-down."

I take a deep breath and focus, letting all the information stream together. Training scores, physicality, my own observations of the tributes' actions and interactions, until it gives me an answer. "Girl from Four. Boy from Two. Girl from Eight."

He grunts and shrugs, turning away to his own room, where I don't have to put up with his surly presence. It's been eight years since I haven't picked the eventual victor in my top three.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dominic Mender, District Six**

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The stage lights up with sparkles. I always like sparkles. The girl glitters as she moves. Pretty girl, shiny in the light. Kaylee elbows me and I remember I promised to wait until after the interviews before I took a hit, but I couldn't wait. I killed the pretty girl in my year. Held her head under the water until she stopped moving. She was bigger than this one. Now the boy. Not as pretty. Tries to be scary. They all do, but none of them knows scary yet. None of them understands, but they will soon. Once they go in the Arena, they will know scary.

All of us sitting up here know scary. We are scary, the scary killers and animals and...

I watch the lights until I hear her voice. Little Sanna who sings pretty songs. She's a good girl, but she will die tomorrow. They usually do. And then Kaylee can do all the morphling she wants while I have to try and fight, but not tonight. I needed it tonight.

Brayton is strong and tough and mean. He said it was my fault none of our boys ever came back. But I came back. He doesn't know yet that it's not better to come back. Living means noises and colors and the dreams and screams and pain and sounds and yelling and whispers and...

Dead is quiet. I wish now I had died, but I was too scared. In another day or two he might understand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Blythe Kirkpatrick, District Seven**

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I line up each of the pastries with a matching drink as the screens flicker to life. If this Games is anything like the last two I've mentored, I'll be lucky to get through more than a few bites before my official duties are discharged. Still, with two years of volunteer victories since mine, our tributes shouldn't be any more targeted than normal.

The tributes begin their rise into the Arena, into a small grassy clearing ringed by a dense growth of bright green trees and spiky bushes. The hill slopes upwards in all directions, with occasional flat tiers edged with sheer rock walls. Unlike my Arena, these are nothing like the forests Josef will know.

I tune out Liv's swearing as the gong sounds and Giselle dashes straight for the Cornucopia. The girl had some silly idea that three days training was enough to make her a decent fighter, if she can only get her hands on a weapon. I see the axe she's angling for, and wince as the burly boy from Two beats her to it by a few seconds and sweeps it up into her throat, nearly taking off her head. He laughs as she staggers back, her final expression fixed in shock. Liv buries her head in her hands for a few seconds, then steals one of my croissants and shots.

Thankfully when the camera finally focuses on Josef, I can see he's listened to at least some of my advice. He skirts the edges of the scattered supplies, grabbing up anything useful. A water bottle, a raincoat, some crackers, even a small knife.

This was the point in my Games I cut my losses and ran for cover, sneaking back later to get more once the fighting was done. Josef isn't that smart. He spots the bright blue backpack about ten feet too close to the Cornucopia and makes a run for it. Unbelievably none of the volunteers spot him, and for a second I think he might get away with it, until he decides to also make a move on the nearby buckler.

The girl from Eight reaches it at the same time, and Josef snatches it from her grasp, swinging his elbow into her face and shoving her down with his foot. Out of nowhere her district partner charges in, tackling Josef down and starting a rolling brawl that I expect will get all three of them killed.

Until he drops the shield, and it rolls to the feet of the girl he just attacked, who brings it crashing down on his head, once, twice, three times. She shoves the limp form off her district partner and the pair make their escape with an extra pack and knife while Josef slumps unmoving on the ground and I reach for my third pastry. Strawberry and hazelnut slice with a coffee liqueur.

The photo isn't grayed out yet, but it doesn't take the volunteers long to find him and end any hope I had of a miraculous comeback.

Three Games now, and I have a new record of twenty-eight minutes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Wilf Farley, District Eight**

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I finally get a tribute worth a damn, and he decides to throw it all away being gentlemanly to a pretty girl. Not that Celia's weak, but I have a horrible feeling that Parker's going to get himself killed protecting her, whether she needs it or not. Then again the boy's such a decent sort, I'm not sure we'd be able to put him back together if he came out the other side. Especially if Celia died on his watch.

The phone rings again, and I shove it to our escort Theranius to answer as Boyd returns from his acknowledgement to Blight. I kick out the chair and hand him the list I've made as he settles his bulk into the padded seat.

With the two knives and buckler, plus a pair of rough-cut spears they've made themselves, they're well armed. Each of them have a pack with the basics: a few days food and water, some rope, matches, a tarp, two torches and a roll of bandage. I doubt they'll need blankets for the night, but a second tarp is still quite cheap now and will cover them nicely. A second pack of water purifiers, 'cause I remember well enough from my own jungle Arena how much water you go through. Also, while we can still afford it, a general anti-venom. We only have enough for one vial, but I won't lose two of the best tributes I've ever had to some stupid creepy-crawly.

Boyd calls it in, with a delay to nightfall, and the parachute launches just as the anthem plays. There's eleven dead, the girls from Three, Six and Twelve. Boys from Five and Nine. Both from Seven, Ten and Eleven. All the fodder, pretty much.

I settle in for the long night once I see the volunteer pack moving out the other direction to our pair. Parker, of course offers to take the first watch and let Celia sleep. I don't think they knew each-other well before the Games, but Parker did say his younger brother was in her class at school. She's pretty enough to keep a young man's interest.

They're both pretty enough to get the sponsors' interest, and from the nasty looks I've been getting from the volunteer mentors, we've cut a little into their usual haul.

Not a whole lot happens for the first two days. It's how the Games go sometimes, and the Capitol gets restless when there's a slow start. So when we start seeing mutts appearing on the morning of the third day, herding groups together I can only watch helplessly and hope we get lucky.


	9. Chapter 9

**Robin Miller, District Nine**

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Basma's stealth keeps her alive far longer than I would have thought. The third day dawns with a burst of rainbow-colored parrots from the tree-tops near where the boy from Three is hiding. Their chattering, shrieking calls direct the volunteer pack away from our tribute.

Anything to give her more time to recover from the toxic fruit she tried eating on the first day is good for us. Luckily we breed strong stomachs out in the districts, and with enough good water she has recovered pretty well. Better than she would have from a sword-cut like that little scrapper from Twelve.

The volunteers catch the kid from Three a little after mid-day, when his attempted scramble up a cliff-face ends in the inevitable fall. He does manage to land on the dumb lump from One, and the flurry of broken bones ends with two cannons firing. Our newest mentor, Felix stares at the big screen in shock. Beetee gives his usual shrug of acceptance and quietly leaves.

Two hours later the Gamemakers release a horde of venomous snakes into the Arena. Basma makes it to the top of her tall, isolated tree and smacks away the only one that comes near her with her stick. Parker from Eight gets bit by a little whippy thing as he goes for water, and they use the anti-venom Wilf had the foresight to send, though he spends the night tossing his guts.

Perky Izzy from Four takes a bite to the face the next day when one of her allies flings away the snake that lands on his shoulders, and Ava drains her sponsor funds and barely gets the antidote to her in time.

We watch the rapidly changing gambler's odds as part of the entertainment for the rest of the day. The volunteers are getting edgy—only two deaths since the Cornucopia battle, one their own, isn't up to their usual standards—and the swords nearly draw after a heated argument between the pair from Two and Mateo from Four, about whether they should leave Izzy behind while she recovers or whether they should just kill her now.

In the lounge, Morstan, Ava and Brutus are having the same argument as their tributes. What none of them expect is District Eight's answer, when Cecelia and Parker release the rock-slide they spent the last two days piling up onto the volunteer packs' heads.


	10. Chapter 10

**Pelline Smith, District Ten**

I can only imagine the scenes in the Viewing Hall as the screen fills with scree and tumbling plants. Boyd and Wilf cheering, the Career mentors gaping in shock. The girls from Four and One avoid the worst of it, being a few steps back. Sprightly Anevay from Two drags herself free, bleeding from a dozen scrapes and scratches, and crawls over to her district partner, who is howling in pain. A single cannon sounds and when the hovercraft finally gets through, it brings up Mateo from Four, his head crushed like a ripe tomato.

Reubis' legs are shattered well beyond the point of Arena medicine. The big strong boy from Two spends two hours huddled and moaning in pain before he finally gives his district partner the nod. She ends his Games with a quick stab to the heart. The pair from Eight don't stick around, scurrying to safety along their higher rocky terrace, back into the deeper jungle. Eventually the remaining Careers pick themselves up and follow at a slow and angry pace.

All around me I can hear the buzz of conversation; the bar livens up quickly with discussion about the duo from District Eight, and whether or not they might actually be a force in reckoning. A round of drinks is bought to toast handsome Parker's ingenuity and pretty Cecelia's feistiness. Another for Anevay's courage. Another to the departed Reubis, who was the bookies' favourite. I leave after the next round, toasting a chance to get in the pants of the quiet blonde girl from One.

With six of the nine remaining tributes girls, there's a good chance we'll be ending the boys' streak. If I were allowed to bet, I'd put money on the lass from Four. Another day and she'll be back to fighting fit, and will be fired up to take down Eight. With two weaker allies still in play, I expect they'll sweep the field fairly easily after that. It'll be just one more year of Career celebrations.


	11. Chapter 11

**Seeder Dace, District Eleven**

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It takes three of us to stop Wilf when he goes ballistic. So many years since he had anyone worth fighting for, he finally gets a boy with guts, brains and the strength to go the distance. And a girl too, for Boyd, a right little scrapper. A perfect pair, though they could never both make it out alive.

It took the trio of Career girls three days to track down the pair from Eight, the crowd favourites. The fight was brutal and bloody, as they often are, Parker striking first blood when he finished the already injured Anevay from Two. Cecelia was holding her own against Luna from One, and Parker had the height and reach on Isidora from Four, if not the training.

With a bit more experience he might have seen the move before it was too late. Izzy's quick strike past her foe, sword slicing across the thigh of the girl from Eight. Cecelia dropping her shield to grasp the sudden sharp pain, and leaving herself open. Parker's desperate dive as the axe came crashing down.

Even with half his insides hanging out, the boy was a match for Luna. I closed my eyes as the screen filled with the bright spray of arterial blood. Isidora's screams of rage accompany her lunge forward, but she is outnumbered now, and Parker takes out her legs from his prone position, leaving Cecelia with an easier kill.

It's a superhuman effort from a boy who, with a bit more selfishness, could probably have fought his way to victory. Instead he lies dying amongst the field of dead girls, Cecelia kneeling over him, apparently unperturbed by the mingled pool of blood as she took his hand.

The Capitol audience has spent the last two weeks watching and thriving on this growing relationship, and now it has been cut down to a tragic but inevitable end. No medicine can save him, no sponsors gift can help him (though the phones are ringing madly in the District Eight cabin, no doubt ready to offer meaningless suggestions and sums).

What we do get is a fitting final chapter for any romance novel, several of which will undoubtedly be published using thinly-veiled analogues, a dying promise made by a heartbroken girl.

"You better win now Celia. Don't cry, be strong. You promise you won't give up fighting until the end?"

"I said I would and I will. And when I get home I'll look after your brother too. Just like I promised."

He clenches her hand tight, a spasm of pain or a final rally of strength.

"He's a good kid, Mack. Nearly as pretty as me, and way nicer." A smile as the end draws near. "You two look after each other for me."

"I don't need looking after," she whispers as his head jerks back, another spasm of pain. She holds his hand while he writhes and moans, and after a quarter hour that feels like an age he finally falls still.

The cannon fires. Cecelia wipes her face clear of the last tears she'll shed for months and picks up her spear and shield. Limps away, the half-dried blood of the dead mingling with that from her wounded leg, coating her from foot to waist.

I hear the crash of the up-ended table that marks the start of one of Wilf's terrible rages, and join Chaff and young Blight in trying to keep him from hurting himself this time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Haymitch Abernathey, District Twelve**

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When he took the sword slice at the Cornucopia I started drinking. Leeah was already dead, Sawney was undoubtedly going to follow, and there was no point continuing the fight to stay sober any more.

The next day I have to force myself to go cold again, because for the first time in three years I have one that makes it past the Cornucopia. I drain my handful of sponsors to get him something for the wound.

Six days in he's jumped by the sneaky girl from Nine. She slips at a crucial moment and he doesn't hesitate to fight dirty. Bites down on the hand that waves near his face. Breaks her arm at the elbow when she takes another swing with her stick. Gets his fingers around her throat and holds on until she stops moving. Twists her neck just in case, then kneels and vomits beside her fallen body, hands shaking in horror. They don't show that last bit on the broadcast. Now they have their final eight, and it's time for interviews.

When Boyd and Wilf's kids take out the other half of the Career pack, I start to feel a glimmer of hope. Of the four kids left, Sawney is the second biggest, and already knows how to kill.

Brayton, the sturdy but shy kid from Six has done nothing but run. He's fought off several mutt attacks, but ran when he was faced with another tribute. Coanda from Five has done nothing but hide. It's worked out well for her so far, but now as the Gamemakers start bringing things to an end, she's going to be at a disadvantage.

The tenth day dawns with a blood-red sunrise, a mark of things to come. Mandatory viewing starts at eleven sharp, and at quarter past our screens are filled with the swishing, scuttling horde of beetles as they pour into Coanda and Brayton's hiding places.

Brayton leaps to his feet, still half asleep, and stomps a hole in the layer of streaming carapaces. He quickly realizes that it's no use, and bails out when they start swarming up his legs. Coanda is quicker. She's up and out like a flash, even remembers to grab her pack and weapons. Running for what she thinks is her life, she stumbles by the edge of the rocky shelf and tumbles eight feet down to the next terraced level, her tumble eventually stopped by a mesh of spiky bushes.

The crash and yell is loud enough to attract Cecelia's attention, and the feisty girl from Eight finds Coanda before she can extricate herself from the thorny plant. For a second Cecelia starts to reach out to help her, then pauses and steps back, driving her spear into the trapped body by her feet.

Sawney is in the top three. My best ever tribute and there is nothing more I can do to help him. Only he can save himself now.

Cecelia continues her determined march onwards, moving up and up around the spiralling ramp of stone. Her limp is all but healed and her eyes are sharp and clear as she continues on. She finds Sawney two hours into the afternoon. It's all I can do to hope she's worn out, but the dumb kid decides that the small girl is an easy target and runs at her with a vicious yell. She turns and barely has to move as his own momentum impales him on the spear in her hand. He collapses on the ground, gasping and heaving, and she finishes him with a knife to the neck and leaves the spear embedded in his stomach.

Keeps on marching. I make sure to load up on a few drinks before I face the press. So close. So very close. I should have taught him better. Maybe sent him something as a warning, though everything is so expensive now I don't know what would have worked. Maybe nothing would.

Ten minutes into my outgoing interview with Claudius and Caesar, the screen cuts to live footage. Brayton and Cecelia have found one another and are battling for the crown. Brayton takes a wild swing at her head, which she ducks and retaliates, her knife slicing down his ribs. He steps back in shock, then his face twists and he yells, animal rage and charges her down. Crunches into her, and she loses the knife in the fall.

He hits her hard in the face twice, then seems to come back to himself a bit. Hesitates, pulls back from the girl he has pinned with his body. She lunges forwards and shoves him off. One hand claws out his left eye. The other goes for his throat, and she holds him there wearing his flailing arms until he stops moving.

According to the side of the screen he is unconscious but not dead. Cecelia calmly gets up and walks over to the knife she dropped earlier. Drags Brayton upright, shoulders heaving at the effort. Looks at the sky as she draws the blade across his bruised neck.

"I promised," she says to the camera as the final cannon sounds. We have a new victor.

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Special thanks to HogwartsDreamer113 for reviewing each chapter as posted. The feedback is appreciated, just to know that people are reading what I write.

Tribute List:

District 1: Luna, Brocade; District 2: Anevay, Reubis; District 3: Arissa, Sato; District 4: Isidora, Mateo; District 5: Coanda, Dinkarr; District 6: Sanna, Brayton

District 7: Giselle, Josef, District 8: Cecelia, Parker; District 9: Basma, Quinley; District 10: Layla, Jabez; District 11: Yarrow, Cayman; District 12: Leeah, Sawney


End file.
